I’ve been thinking about the stupidity of racism lately.
The year Hattie McDaniel became the first ever African American to win an Oscar for her role in Gone with the Wind, people had to pull favors to let her in the building. She wasn't allowed to sit at the same table as the film's white cast members. She was forced to sit at the far end of the room, against the wall with her agent. A similar happenstance happened with James Baskett who played Uncle Remus in Song of the South. Many here in the United States consider anyone from south of the border to be illegal and with the Covid-19 pandemic, reports of people of Asian descent being treated as pariahs has become rampant. Even those with white skin find themselves the victims of racial injustice and mob mentality on television and social media.
Racism is not specific to melanin content or lack thereof. It, like many other diseases in this world, can invade anyone regardless of color, creed, or political ideology. It is a cancer, a silent predator, sometimes affecting even those loudly professing to be free of it. It does no good and only causes harm to the soul. It is the debris of hate and is unnecessarily learned from those who cannot give up a certain identity for fear of what may come.
Yes, we have different colors in our skin, but if you look at the bottoms of our feet and the palms of our hands, they're pretty much the same. Next time you meet someone with different skin than yours, try to look at their hand then look at your own. Perhaps if we paid more attention to the parts of our bodies that take us places and allow us to keep in touch with others, they might remind us of just how much the same we are where it truly counts.